


Magical Adaption

by EverybodyLovesEggsy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abused Harry Potter, Blind Character, Blind Harry, Blindness, Child Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Injury, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Mentor Severus Snape, Non-Graphic Violence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Child Abuse, Permanent Injury, Protective Severus Snape, Protectiveness, Severitus | Severus Snape is Harry Potter's Parent, Severus Snape Adopts Harry Potter, Severus Snape Has a Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:15:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25927984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EverybodyLovesEggsy/pseuds/EverybodyLovesEggsy
Summary: What if abuse from the Dursleys led to Harry being blind? In a situation similar to Marvel's Daredevil's origin story (if you know it), chemicals get into Harry's eyes due to the Dursleys keeping them in his cupboard. Then instead of his senses being heightened, Harry's magic adapts so that he can see magic. What will happen next?
Relationships: Harry Potter & Severus Snape
Comments: 70
Kudos: 767
Collections: Disability Mental Illness or Neurodivergent fic that makes my heart warm & fuzzy, Waiting for updates





	1. Chemicals

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [dungeon bats](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17395952) by [bluehasnoclues](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluehasnoclues/pseuds/bluehasnoclues). 



> Inspired by dungeon bats, but not a continuation, so do not expect it to be when reading. Thank you :)

Harry was used to the darkness. He was rather at home with it. After years of being locked in it, the darkness was a comfort. Light usually meant screeching aunts, spoiled cousins, and violent uncles. But darkness? Darkness was safety from the bruises and name-calling.

It was his love of darkness that kept Harry from immediately panicking when he found himself no longer able to see.

Don’t get him wrong, when the cleaning chemicals fell from the shelves and splashed in his eyes after Uncle Vernon threw him into his cupboard, Harry had been afraid. The chemicals had burned worse than any beating his Uncle could ever ply him with; It was all he could do to keep from screaming in agony – after his most recent beating, he really didn’t need draw attention to himself. As soon as he heard the lock on the cupboard click, Harry pushed through the pain in his body and the agony in his eyes, resisting the urge to rub them, and quickly wash his eyes out as best he could using the full plastic bottle of water he had nicked from school. When the bottle was empty, he let the tears of pain and desperation fall from his burning eyes in hopes that it would be enough to wash them out. 

For the first time since he was four, Harry cried himself to sleep.

The next morning (according to the harsh knock on his door and Aunt Petunia's demand for breakfast waking him like usual), the first thing he noticed was the lack of light filtering through the bottom of the cupboard door. Instead of the panic he was sure others (people who hadn't developed a fondness for the dark) would feel, Harry only felt resigned and perhaps a little sad. As much as he loved the darkness, he didn’t want to lose the ability to see the blue sky on a nice day or the colors of the flowers when they bloomed. As much as he was home in the dark, the colors the world had to offer made every single minute in the light worth it.

His Aunt harshly banged on the door once more, “Boy! Stop lazing about and start breakfast!”

Finally, the panic filled him. How was he supposed to do his chores if he couldn't see? The Dursleys would see it as another reason to hate him. Probably more so since he wouldn’t be able to do chores. Maybe he should see if he'd be able to find his way around without vision? After all, he had been doing the same chores for as long as he could remember. Before today, had anybody asked (not that there was anybody who would), he would have confidently told them he could do his chores with his eyes closed. If there was any time to test that, it would be now.

Decision made, Harry took a deep breath to calm himself. Carefully, he reached his arms out to find the door to his cupboard. He couldn’t help smiling when he found the doorknob right where he expected it to be. Perhaps his plan would work. (He ignored the voice that told him this task was so easy because his cupboard had always been dark.) 

Harry slowly emerged from the safety of his cupboard. Despite having expected his blindness, he couldn’t help the jolt of sorrow he felt when he was faced with the same darkness as he had inside of his cupboard. He quickly pushed the feeling away, not willing to dwell on the disappointment of correctly diagnosing himself as blind. Harry turned to his right, leaving a hand on the same wall as his cupboard, following it to the kitchen. 

Unfortunately, he ran into his aunt before he could make it there.

“What are you blind, boy?!”

Harry flinched, not knowing how to respond. Did he apologize and continue his way to the kitchen like she expected him to? Or did he admit that, yes, actually, he was? He opened up his mouth to respond still not sure what he planned to say, when he felt a harsh grip on his shoulders, and he was yanked forward. Caught off guard and unable to see if he was close to anything, Harry flinched back. The grip tightened painfully, keeping him from going anywhere. He felt his breath quicken in panic due to not knowing what was happening.

There was a loud gasp in front of him and Harry flinched again when his Aunt yelled, “Vernon!”

Panic filled him further as he heard his uncle’s heavy footsteps make their way down the steps and towards them. 

“What is it, Pet?”

Harry nearly fell over when his Aunt quickly and harshly turned him around so that he was facing his uncle. Or at least, that’s where he was assuming, he was facing.

“Look at his eyes! The boy is blind!”

There was shocked silence that made Harry’s panic rise even further (his uncle was _never_ silent). After a moment, a large hand gripped him even harder than his Aunt’s boney hands had and dragged back down the hallway. In his panic, he couldn’t help but deliriously wonder if his uncle had turned puce yet. 

He heard his cupboard door squeak open before he was thrown in, shoulder hitting the wall hard enough for an ominous pop to come from his shoulder, causing him to cry out in shock, “You are useless, boy! You hear me?! USELESS! Since you can’t do chores, you can’t earn your keep! Absolutely USELESS! You’re never coming out of that cupboard again!”

The door slammed closed harder than Harry has ever heard it. Shocked, he stared at the door (or where he thought the door was to be more precise) and listened as his uncle stomped furiously away. That was it? No beating, or blame? Then again, it was a weekday morning meaning his uncle had to get to work. Did that mean he should expect a beating tonight? But Uncle Vernon said he wasn’t coming out of the cupboard again… did that mean no more beatings? Harry shook his head. No, he wasn’t that lucky. His uncle probably planned for his only outings to be those beatings. Then a horrid thought occurred to him; did not being let out of the cupboard mean he wasn’t going to be fed either? Was he going to starve worse than usual? Panic filled Harry again – not even the thought that they wouldn’t want to deal with the body comforted him. After all, they could starve him more than they already do without killing him.

Panic-filled tears began to fill his eyes as he struggled to breathe. He tried to move to sit up so he could put his head between his knees like he has learned to do, but pain filled his shoulder. Harry harshly bit his lip to stifle the automatic cry of pain. The pain did focus his thoughts on something other than his imminent starvation, though, allowing his breathing to come easier. Carefully, he used his good arm to sit himself up. Once sitting, as gently as he could, he began prodding his shoulder, biting his lip harder every time it hurt. It didn’t take him long to realize his should had popped out of its socket. Dudley had caused that to happen at school once, and the nurse had to pop it back in; it had hurt like the blazes for weeks after that. Harry didn’t know how he could possibly fix it himself. It was the middle of summer, so he wouldn’t be going to school anytime soon (if they let him go at all now that he wasn’t able to see), meaning he couldn’t ask the nurse to fix it. 

Tears filled Harry’s eyes again, but this time in despair. Never in his seven years of life had things felt so hopeless to him. He had stopped hoping for his aunt and uncle to love him or show any type of approval since his aunt smacked him and accused him of cheating when he did better on a spelling quiz than Dudley last year, yet even then he didn’t feel as hopeless as he did now. Not only was he blind with an arm he didn’t know how to fix, he was probably going to get starved worse than usual and he had no hopes of getting outside of his cupboard for anything but a beating anytime soon. Harry didn’t think his life could get any worse than it was right now.

With that thought, he let his tears run, shoving his fist between his teeth so he didn’t make a sound.

***

Harry was thrown roughly back into the cupboard, landing hard on his still-injured shoulder. He had been right; he hadn’t gotten a single scrap of food or water all day (making it two days since he had drunken anything, and five since he had eaten), and then, after the Dursleys at their dinner, his uncle had dragged him out in order to beat him, telling him it was the only time he would be outside of the cupboard. Aching all over, worse than usual due to having suffered his previous beating only the night before, Harry only moved enough so that he was laying on his good shoulder. His stomach ached from a mix of bruises and hunger pains, and his ribs and back screamed in agony as the open wounds on his back continued to bleed. Harry didn’t even try to fight the fogginess he always felt when his uncle whipped him enough to open wounds on his back. Instead, he let the blackness take over, submerging him in the painless bliss of sleep.


	2. Health Alert

Severus woke with a gasp at the sharp pain in his chest. Whatever it was hurt worse than when the Dark Mark burned when the Dark Lord was calling. Thankfully, now that he was aware, the pain lessened enough so that he wasn’t incapacitated, but was still painful enough to be worrisome.

Sitting up as he rubbed at his chest, Severus tried to figure out what was going on. He would have thought he was having a heart attack if he hadn’t been able to feel his slightly elevated but normal heartrate under his fingertips. With a frown, he closed his eyes and felt for his magical core. It only took a moment to find it, and as soon as he did, he gasped in shock.

He hadn’t needed to search out his magical core in a long time, because Severus had known what he would find if he ever did; there would be a faded black connection that connected him to the Dark Lord through his Mark, and a thin golden connection that connected him to Harry Potter through his vow of protection. Since he was extremely careful with binding himself to anyone, he had neither the thin silver (as the Dark Lord’s connection should have been had it not been blackened by the Dark Magic of the Mark) of any Oaths, or the dark red of any Unbreakable Vows. In his opinion, the two bindings to the Dark Lord and Harry Potter were more than enough – one too many if he was being completely honest.

What made him gasp, however, was how the golden connection to Potter was pulsing a sickly yellow and tugging at his core. This could only mean one thing – Harry Potter was dying. Severus quickly opened his eyes and hopped out of bed. With a flick of his wand he was dressed in a long sleeve shirt and some trousers. Once dressed, he disillusioned himself, placed a silencing charm around him, and focused on the location the connection was tugging him towards before he apparated away, thankful he had chosen to go to Spinner’s End for the summer rather than stay at Hogwarts, where he would have had to run past the wards first.

As soon as he landed, Severus opened his eyes to take in his surroundings. He was standing in the middle of a darkened hallway, facing a cupboard under the stairs. Frowning, he looked around, trying to figure out where Potter was. He should have appeared right next to the boy.

Horror filled Severus when, after checking the connection, he realized the boy was inside of the cupboard in front of him. A cupboard with locks on the outside.

Knowing he didn’t have time to pay a visit to the other occupants to find out _exactly_ what they’d done to the boy – not with the way the connection was tugging at him – Severus wordlessly used unlocking charms at the cupboard door, and opened the door to peek inside with a dim lumos. The iron scent of blood filled his nose as he took in the sad sight of Potter. Had he not known the boy was seven – to be eight in a month – Severus would have thought he was no more than five or six years old. A large bruise mottled the boy’s face, making the rail-thin form look even more unhealthy. The movement of the boy’s chest through his soft and slightly wheezing breaths, brought attention to a shoulder sitting at a very awkward angle, indicating dislocation.

Severus quickly sent a Patronus to Madam Pomfrey so that she could use her small amount of control over the wards on Hogwarts’ hospital wing to allow him to apparate in, and then cast a diagnostic to make sure there were no injuries to the boy’s head or spine that would make moving him impossible. He glanced over the parchment, growling at a few of the things he noticed while looking for those specific injuries. From what little he actually read, he desperately wanted to show the inhabitants upstairs _exactly_ what protection from Severus Snape looked like. He tamped down the urge and quickly levitated Potter out of the cupboard, when he saw no indication that doing so would injure him and into his arms. The boy moaned in pain as soon as he had him in his arms, but otherwise didn’t wake up. Just as he was standing, Pomfrey’s Raven* Patronus appeared to confirm that she had dropped the wing’s anti-apparition ward. Severus then quickly apparated out of the house and to Hogwarts.

As soon as he landed, he moved towards the bed Pomfrey was standing next to, waiting for him, and gently put Potter down. The boy once again moaned in pain without waking. The Medi-witch immediately began running diagnostic charms so she could begin working on Potter. Severus heard her mutter angrily under her breath as he summoned some of the potions that he knew the boy needed. Without needing to be told, he spelled the blood replenisher into the boy’s stomach.

Pomfrey nodded in approval, and quickly got to work healing anything life-threatening. Severus stepped back, silently watching as she worked. As she did so, he could feel the tug of his vow begin to lessen further and further, until, finally, an hour later, it disappeared altogether. The Medi-Witch sighed in relief at the same time.

“That is everything life-threating,” she told him, casting another diagnostic charm to make sure nothing was missed due to overlapping injuries. She nodded to herself before glancing up at him with a raised eyebrow, “Care to explain how you came across this very abused and clearly malnourished little boy?”

Severus moved the hand that he had been tapping against his lips in thought, “Check under his fringe.”

The woman frowned but stopped prodding at the dislocated shoulder to do as he said. As expected, she immediately gasped, “But how…?”

“I swore a vow of protection after Lily died,” Severus, as always, ignored the pang at the thought of his friend, “I never expected him to need it this soon.”

Pomfrey’s gaze darkened, “I don’t think any of us thought so.”

He nodded absently as the thoughts that had been swirling in his brain while he had watched the Medi-Witch work. Did Dumbledore know about Potter’s home life? If he didn’t, did that mean the man hadn’t checked up on the boy once in the past six years? If he did, then did he confront them and then naively believe it had stopped them? Or did he do nothing and let the boy suffer in the name of the blood wards? Where would Potter go now that he couldn’t return to his so-called family?

A sickening pop had Severus refocusing back on Pomfrey and saw that he had relocated the boy’s shoulder. Considering the boy didn’t cry out, she must have given him a dreamless sleep and a pain potion. The Medi-Witch then picked up the jar of bruise paste Severus had summoned earlier, and gently began applying it on every discolored spot of skin – thankfully it seemed the abuse stayed from the waist up.

Unable to take his eyes off of the large handprint-shaped bruise on the boy’s shoulder, Severus asked with no small amount of dread, “Was there anything permanent?”

“I don’t believe so, but I have yet to check his overall health. I kept the diagnostics focused on fixable injuries due to how many there were.”

Severus nodded in understanding, “Do you mind if I cast it?”

Pomfrey glanced up at him in surprise but continued to spread the paste across the boy’s shoulders, finally clearing up that sickening handprint, “Go ahead.”

He nodded again and quickly muttered the necessary incantation. As soon as the parchment leapt out of his want, he wasted no time and began reading it. As expected, Potter was extremely malnourished. He would likely need to be on a specific diet to help fix that for the next year, even with nutrition potions. Thankfully, it seemed that there was nothing wrong with the boy's bones, muscles, or nerves, despite the damage that had to be healed. Severus froze as he read the item on the bottom of the page, the most recent problem the boy’s body has had to handle. He read the words over and over, in shock. How could this happen?

“Severus?”

He snapped out of his thoughts to look up at the Medi-Witch. His shock and horror must have shown on his face because she frowned at him.

“Is everything alright?”

Severus couldn’t do anything more than shake his head and pass over the paper. It didn't take long for her to reach the bottom of the page, and gasp at what she read. He stared at the boy on the bed, wondering how they were going to explain to a little boy that he was blind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I read a thing somewhere that talked about certain animals meaning different types of healing, and I remembered Raven meant healing by magical methods, so I thought it was rather fitting to make it Poppy’s Patronus.


	3. It's Magic!

The first thing Harry noticed when he came to, was that he was laying on something soft. It was too soft to be the small mattress in his cupboard so, where was he? The last thing he remembered was his uncle throwing him back into his cupboard after his second beating in two days. Speaking of which, he didn’t feel the usual throbbing that came with waking up the day after a beating. Harry shifted slightly and frowned, not understanding why he felt better than he could ever remember. He opened his eyes – more out of habit than necessity – and immediately closed them with a gasp of pain, quickly bringing his hands up to cover them.

“Harry?”

Harry flinched away, startled at the unexpected and unknown voice, and sat up quickly, trying to push himself as far back as the bed as he could, keeping his eyes squeezed shut. He didn’t understand; yesterday (at least he thought it was yesterday) he had opened his eyes and only saw darkness. So why was he seeing colors now? Was he not as blind as he thought?

A soft set of footsteps heading towards him brought Harry out of his thoughts and fear filled him, reminding him that he didn’t know where he was or who these people were. From the opposite side that the voice from earlier came from, Harry felt something warm flow over him, and he recoiled, not knowing what it was. It had felt comforting, but Harry didn’t trust it. When nothing else happened for a minute, Harry frowned in confusion and tilt his head in the direction the warmth came from, trying to see if he could hear what it was.

He flinched away in surprise when a new voice came from that direction, “Hello, Harry. I know this must all be confusing for you, but I promise you are safe here. My name is Poppy, and I am a healer. I just want to check to make sure you are okay. Can you open your eyes for me?”

Harry considered for a moment, trying to decide if he should trust this woman. She had a soft voice and sounded nice, but so did his teacher last year, until Aunt Petunia convinced her that he was a criminal after she saw his teacher being nice to him. But she called herself a healer, meaning she was probably the one who made the pain from his beating go away. Deciding to risk trusting her, Harry carefully, he began to peak them open, but the colors were still painfully bright, so he closed them with a wince and shook his head.

“Okay, that’s okay. Thank you for trying. Why don’t you tell me what you were seeing that made it hurt? Maybe I can make it better.”

He hesitated unsurely and quietly told her, “The colors are too bright.”

“Colors?”

Slowly, nodding, Harry wondered if she would call him a liar like his aunt did when she didn’t believe him. When there was no other response, he fidgeted his fingers together nervously.

“Harry.”

He flinched in surprise when the first voice spoke up again but turned towards it. It was soft like the woman’s – Poppy, he thinks she said? – but it was deeper than hers, and obviously from a man. While he didn’t trust it any more than he trusted Poppy’s, he did like the sound of it – it was smooth, comforting.

“I am going to place your hand in mine. When I do, I want you to completely focus on what you feel, then slowly open your eyes. Can you do that, Harry?”

Once again, Harry hesitated, wondering if he could trust this man. So far neither of them has seemed like they are going to hurt him, and they had healed him. Maybe he could trust them?

Harry nodded slowly and held his arm out in the direction he heard the man’s voice. He felt gentle fingers loosely wrap around his much smaller palm, before guiding their hands down to the bed so he could relax his arm. After a moment making sure the man wasn’t planning on doing anything, Harry focused on the hand holding his. It was mostly soft, but there were a few rough patched on what he thought were the man’s finger tips. Keeping focus on the odd sensation of feeling both the rough and soft parts of the man’s hand, Harry slowly opened his eyes.

He blinked in surprise when he better able to see the different colors swirling around the room. There was a light gold color that came from all sides, giving him the general picture of what he thought were the walls and floor of the room. Other colors were dim and faded, though some were brighter than others. Only two colors were brighter than the overwhelming gold, however. On his left, there was a very bright ball of pink and on his right, a slightly brighter ball of dark greenish turquoise.

“Can you tell us what you see, Harry?” the woman’s voice came from the same area as the pink ball. He frowned, wondering why he was seeing balls of color instead of people. He couldn’t even see an outline in the shape of a person

Keeping his voice quiet, not wanting to upset these people he responded, “There are a bunch of colors everywhere. Some are really bright, but other are really dim, like they are disappearing. The… the brightest colors are a pink ball where I think you are, and a dark greenish turquoise one where I think he is.”

Harry had turned to look at the man who was still holding his hand and saw the ball of color shift at the same time he heard what sounded like the shifting of clothes before the man’s soft voice spoke again, making him sure that the ball of color somehow represented them, “I am going to try something, Harry, I want to tell me what you see.”

He stiffened, not knowing what to expect, but then he gasped in surprise.

“Your color brightened before your doe appeared,” Harry leaned forward and touched the glowing white animal’s nose and smiled when it nudged his hand before bounding away. Harry turned back to the man, and started to ask curiously, “How–,” but quickly cut himself off, looking away from the man in fear. One of the first things he learned at the Dursley’s was never to ask questions. Harry bit his lip nervously, waiting for the reprimand.

“You can ask your questions, Harry. Nobody will get mad at you,” the man told him instead, using an even softer tone than before.

Hesitantly, he asked his question, still expecting to be yelled at, “How did you make the doe appear?”

“I cast a spell.”

He frowned, “You…You mean like a magician?”

“The correct term is wizard, but yes.”

“How? My aunt and uncle always said that magic wasn’t real and that all the weird stuff that happens around me is because I am a freak… but it’s magic, isn’t it?”

There was a small pause and a slow, quiet release of breath, “Yes, it is. You are a wizard like I am.”

“Do… Do you think you can teach me?” Harry hesitated asked with hope, afraid that this man didn’t like questions. He had answered them up until now, so maybe he wouldn’t get mad like Uncle Vernon did. Realizing he didn’t even know this man’s name, he asked, “What’s your name?”

There was a small silence, and Harry had the feeling that he was being inspected. What for, he had no idea.

“My name is Severus, but you can call me Sev, like your mother used to if you wish.”

“You knew my mum?” Harry asked shocked, not having expected that. Maybe Sev would tell him about her _and_ teach him magic! He internally shook his head, no, he wouldn’t get his hopes up.

“Indeed. I can tell you a bit about her and teach you some magic, Harry, but I’d like you to answer some questions first.”

Harry swallowed slightly in fear, having a feeling that he wasn’t going to like these questions. But if he answered them, Sev said he would teach him magic _and_ talk about his mum. That was definitely worth answering a few questions for. Hopefully, he just didn’t ask anything that could get him in trouble with the Dursley’s when he was eventually sent back like he knew he would be. He was _always_ was sent back.


	4. Explanations

Severus had no idea what possessed him to allow the boy to use Lily’s nickname for him.

It was only the morning after he and Poppy had found out the boy was permanently blind when Harry woke up. Unable to force himself to leave the still rather fragile-looking boy, not after the way he found him, even if only for the night, Severus had slept in the chair next to Harry’s bed. It had been a little disconcerting waking to Harry’s pain-filled gasp.

As soon as the boy had mentioned colors, Severus had realized what he was seeing. It seemed that Harry’s ability to see magic was not affected by his blindness. Perhaps the ability had even manifested because of the boy’s magic trying to compensate for said blindness. Either way, they needed to figure out how powerful Harry’s ability was, but the only way for that to happen was for the boy to open his eyes. Most with untrained mage-sight struggled to handle seeing so much magic, especially at Hogwarts, but their normal sight allowed them to offset it and quickly learn to control it; with Harry being blind, it would no doubt be much harder to do so. Knowing the boy’s other senses were heightened or would become heightened if Harry hadn’t been blind for very long, Severus decided to try and see if having Harry focus on one of his other senses would give him better control, toning down the brightness of the colors the boy was seeing. So, he held Harry’s hand and, oddly enough, had to keep himself from smiling when the boy opened his eyes and gasped in wonder at what he was seeing.

Severus then had to keep himself from mirroring Harry’s reaction when the boy revealed that he was able to see his and Poppy’s magical cores. Not only that, he could tell when he cast as well as what he cast. Not that Harry realized any of this, let alone how powerful he would have to be for this to be possible.

He was slightly confused by the unfamiliar feeling of his heart jerking when Harry became afraid to ask his questions. How had it taken so little time for Harry to begin to affect him so strongly?

Severus pushed the thought away for later consideration and answered Harry’s questions, doing the best to ignore the way his heart jerked again when the boy admitted to his relatives calling him a freak (the term did make him begin to expect exactly who it was that had been raising the boy, however, and it filled him with anger at both her and Dumbledore for placing Harry with her in the first place).

When Harry asked to be taught magic, Severus had about to explain to the boy that he would be able to learn magic as advanced as the Patronus at Hogwarts as soon as he turned eleven, when he was slightly caught off guard by Harry asking his name. Most didn’t particularly care to meet him unless they wanted something, but from the pure curiosity he heard in the boy’s voice, he knew he hadn’t asked because of that. It sounded like the boy genuinely wanted to know more about him, the man who held his hand, let Harry ask his question, and was telling him about magic; then again, for a boy who was blind to everything but the magic in the room, it was even more important for Harry to know who he was talking to.

The thought sobered him a bit, and he made the split-second decision not to introduce himself as a professor, leading him to rather impulsively give Harry permission to call him Lily’s nickname for him, and admitting to having known the boy’s mother. Perhaps it was because Harry was already beginning to wiggle himself past the barriers he had around his heart, reminding Severus so much of his best friend with the wonder and curiosity slowly emerging passed Harry’s defensive wariness.

Severus pushed the thought away, and used his impulsiveness to his advantage, promising Harry to tell the boy about Lily and magic if Harry answered some questions. While he had a good idea of Harry’s homelife thanks to the multiple health scans before and after healing the boy, he needed to find out the full extent of the abuse, as well as how and when Harry had become blind. He watched the boy internally debate with himself, for a moment, before reluctantly nodding in agreement to answering a few questions. Severus swallowed as he could practically feel the fear radiating off the boy.

Knowing the fear was due to the worry about what questions would be asked, Severus just decided to rip off the band-aid, so to speak, keeping his voice soft, “Can you tell me who hurt you so badly, Harry?”

The boy flinched slightly, moving his eyes from Severus’s chest (where he presumed Harry could see his magical core) and tried to pull away, obviously uncomfortable. Severus squeezed Harry’s hand slightly, not letting it go in case doing so made the boy’s mage-sight act up again – and because he desired to comfort Harry, he grudgingly admitted to himself as he rubbed his thumb soothingly across the boy’s knuckles. The action seemed to calm Harry, going by the way his shoulder relaxed slightly. When the silence continued, Severus began to worry that Harry would refuse to answer his question.

“My uncle,” came a near inaudible whisper.

Severus squeezed the small hand in his in encouragement, “Does he hurt you often?”

Harry gave a small nod.

“What about the rest of your family, Harry?”

The boy hesitated before quietly saying, “Dudley and his friends like to play Harry Hunting, and Aunt Petunia cuffs me on the head if I mess up my chores. One time she hit me with a frying pan because I burned breakfast.”

The potions professor carefully tamped his anger down when Harry confirmed to him that it was Petunia who had gotten custody of the boy. It seemed the woman was no less vile and spiteful than when she was a girl. When he knew he would be able to speak calmly and softly, Severus continued, “I just have one more question, Harry. Is that alright?”

Harry looked back in his direction in surprise and nodded.

“Can you tell me how and when you went blind?”

“Uncle Vernon threw me in my cupboard after my punishment and the cleaning supplies spilled on me. I tried to wash my eyes out with some water, but when I woke up, I couldn’t see so Uncle Vernon locked me in my cupboard all day and punished me for becoming useless when he got home from work. After that I woke up here,” the boy explained, with the same quiet tone. Harry hesitated before asking, “Do you know why I can see colors when I couldn’t before, Sev?”

Severus’s heart clenched at the account of what occurred, but it also filled with warmth at Harry’s use of his nickname. He had to carefully reign in his anger at the boy’s so-called relatives once more, as he focused on answering Harry’s question,

“I believe it’s because the colors you are seeing is magic, Harry. It would explain why you couldn’t see them before. Your… relatives’,” Severus barely resisted from spitting out the term so as not to frighten the boy, “house would not have any magic in it, except perhaps the little accidental magic you did, while Hogwarts – the school we are currently in – is saturated with it. That’s probably why the colors were too bright for you before.”

“Oh,” a thoughtful look came over the boy’s face, “There’s a magic school? Will I attend? Is that why we are here? What does sat-ur-at-ed mean? How are the colors less bright than before? Can you see magic?”

Severus chuckled slightly at the rapid-fire questions, causing Harry to self-consciously curl into himself. His heart clenched again at the sight and quickly reassured the boy, “There’s no need for that, Harry. I told you nobody would hurt you for asking questions, did I not? I promise you, I meant it. I won’t allow anybody to ever hurt you again, Harry.”

“Not even my relatives?” Harry asked before shrinking further into himself.

“No, not even them,” he replied firmly, “You will not be returning to them, ever, even I have to adopt you myself to make sure of it.”

Harry frowned at him in confusion, “Why would you want to do that? Nobody wants a freak like me.”

“You’re not a freak, Harry. You are a very curious little boy who just happens to be able to do magic, like your parents before you. There is nothing freakish about you or your magic, no matter what you relatives said.”

After a moment, the boy nodded slightly, but obviously not completely believing him. Severus left it for the moment, knowing it would take time for Harry to believe him.

“As for why I laughed, I promise it wasn’t at you. You just sounded remarkably like your mother then.”

“Really?”

“Indeed,” his lips twitched towards a smile when Harry looked at him with a mix of awe, hope, and curiosity, “She was also very curious, and loved learning new things. I can continue to tell you about her if you’d like, but allow me to answer your questions first, yes?”

Harry nodded at him excited, uncurling from himself slightly and leaned forwards in anticipation. Severus’s lips twitched in a small smile and he began talking, hoping that this meant that the boy was beginning to trust him.


	5. Decisions

Severus watched Harry’s once again sleeping form, as he thought about everything the boy said. He was shocked just how much like Lily Harry was, despite what he’d been through. Once Severus had begun answering the boy’s questions, Harry had relaxed enough to continue asking more. Especially when he began talking about Lily. It had been difficult to talk about her like it had been since she died, but the way Harry looked at him – so eager to hear about her that he was hanging on his every word – made it easier somehow.

When the boy absently commented that she didn’t sound like she was a drunk, Severus disbelievingly asked where he got that idea, only to feel the fury at the muggles return with a vengeance. Not only did they seem to think it was okay to verbally and physically abuse him for his magic, but Petunia was so spiteful as to tell him lies about his parents? To make Harry think that he was so unlovable that even his parents – the parents who _died_ for him – hated him enough to drink themselves into a stupor before causing the supposed car crash that killed them? For the first time since his bastard of a father was alive, Severus wanted nothing more than to simply go cause _pain_. The muggles deserved nothing less than torture for the way they chose to treat a _child_. _Lily’s_ child. Like he promised the boy, he had full intentions to make sure Harry never went back to the disgusting muggles.

The problem, however, was Dumbledore. Severus knew the man was going to be very averse to the idea of Harry being anywhere that wasn’t underneath the blood wards. He had heard the man remind Minerva of them whenever she asked of Harry too many times to think otherwise. However, Severus knew of no other way to get Harry out of the Dursley house than to talk to Dumbledore. If he and Poppy submitted the abuse report without speaking to him first, Harry could very well end up somewhere just as or even more dangerous than the Dursleys. Such as a Voldemort supporter. Severus refused to allow that to happen. Though, the thought did remind him of Poppy’s presence. She had quietly backed out of the room while he talked to Harry about Lily, but he knew she would be expecting him to join her soon.

Severus looked away from Harry for the first time since he had woken up that morning and quietly stood from his chair next to the boy’s bedside. He then walked to Poppy’s office, where he had seen the woman go from the corner of his eyes when she had left earlier. He quietly knocked, only entering when he heard her give permission to do so. The woman was sitting in the chair behind her desk, sipping tea staring blankly at some paperwork on her desk. When he got closer, Severus could see it was an unfilled abuse report that she likely pulled out for Harry. He didn’t blame her for blankly staring at it in the face of what they knew Harry had gone through. Poppy seemed to come back to herself some and silently placed her cup down and poured one for Severus as she indicated the seat across from her. He complied, thanking her for the tea.

After taking a small sip, Severus broke the quiet, asking a question he already knew the answer to, “Have you submitted an abuse report yet?”

Poppy shook her head, “I assumed you wanted to talk before I did.”

“Thank you.”

The older woman inclined her head but didn’t say anything further. Severus took another fortifying sip of his tea.

“I would request you to wait to submit the report until I’ve talked to Albus, but I am not entirely sure that is the best action at the moment.”

Poppy raised her eyebrows at him, “And what makes you say that?”

Severus sighed, “Poppy, you know as well as I do how much Minerva has asked after Harry. His response has always been that the boy was treated as a prince, yet we have evidence that that was never true from the moment Harry was placed at that house. That means he either never checked on the boy because he is blind to the possibility of abuse, was willfully blind and purposefully neglected to check in on him, or checked and left Harry to his fate. None of those options put him in a good standing in my book.”

The Medi-witch frowned and thought about what he said for a moment, “You think he might send Harry back.”

“He is very adamant about the blood wards there,” Severus agreed.

Poppy pursed her lips at the insinuation of the headmaster’s character but didn’t immediately reply. Severus used the silence to take another sip of his tea.

“What if,” Poppy began slowly, “You tell him… and then, depending on what he wants to do, you… inform him that I can very easily add in his name as the person responsible for checking up on Harry due to the limited people who knew of Harry’s residence by his doing.”

“Blackmail, Poppy?” Severus smirked in amusement, “How very unlike you.”

The woman just gave him a look over her tea. He chuckled quietly and thought on her suggestion. While not necessarily the best plan, Severus couldn’t think of one that might work better. Dumbledore would not risk having his name slandered like it would be if he is listed on the official abuse report. He will likely still take a hit to his reputation because he is known to have taken Harry to that… home… but it would be much worse if were to appear on paper and be more than just rumor. The threat would make the Headmaster more likely to back whatever Severus’s plan is regarding Harry’s placement.

Severus sighed to himself. That was another step of the plan he needed to figure out. Harry’s placement. It would be rather remiss of him to ensure Harry couldn’t be put back with the Dursley’s due to the old man, only to not have a plan to replace the Dursley’s so-called care. But where could Harry go? Harry’s Godfather – who Severus firmly believed wouldn’t be a good full time guardian in any sense of the word, and definitely not to a boy with Harry’s background – was in Azkaban; His Godmother was in the Janus Thickey Unit with her husband while their own son was being raised by Dragon Lady Longbottom herself – and if rumor were to be believed then allowing her step-brother to borderline abuse her grandson, so was most definitely out of the running; and finally, despite what Dumbledore would likely think, the Weasleys were both too poor and too loud for an abused little boy, who would need a lot of attention and reassurance. The Tonks’s was the only viable option he could think of, though Severus had a feeling Harry wouldn’t take to any strangers very well. That left one option. Severus himself.

A large part of him instantly rejected the idea. Who was he to raise the child of his best friend when he is the reason she is gone? Who was he to raise him when he genuinely hated one half of the child’s parentage? But there were no other options he could think of. Perhaps he’d need to take Minerva’s advice and let his hate of James Potter rest now that the man was dead.

He sighed and rubbed at his nose, “Is there anyway you would allow me to take a copy of the report with me to Gringotts before you submit it? I would only need you to hold off until tomorrow morning.”

Severus looked up and saw Poppy was looking at him in confusion, “Whatever for?”

“They will be able to help me get custody of Harry.”

Poppy’s eyebrows raised in surprise, “You want custody?”

“If you have a better idea without risking a custody battle at the Ministry leading him to ending up in the hands of a follower of the Dark Lord, then I am all ears,” Severus said dryly.

“I don’t mean to doubt you, Severus. In fact, I think it is a wonderful idea considering your experience with abuse cases. I am just surprised you are willing to let go of your hatred of James Potter for this.”

The potions professor nodded but admitted what he had been realizing in the past day, “He is Lily’s son too.”

Poppy smiled, “And I am glad you are finally remembering that. Give me a moment and I’ll fill out the form for you to copy and take.”

Severus nodded, settling into the chair as he continued to sip his tea, mentally making a list of the things he would need to get ready for Harry to come live with him should the Goblins be able to help.


End file.
